


Not An Apology

by A_Gentle_Lurker



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Gentle_Lurker/pseuds/A_Gentle_Lurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey didn't want to come with Ian to his admissions interview.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not An Apology

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago and just came across it again and thought I'd post it. It's not set in any particular time during the show.

It wasn’t an apology. It just wasn’t. Simple as that. Yeah, he’d said some nasty shit the last time they’d hooked up, and yeah maybe it wasn’t exactly entirely Ian’s fault, but still. He had nothing to fucking apologize for. Calling someone a fucking queer and telling them to shut the fuck up before you punch them in the throat isn’t all that bad. In fact, for Mickey, it’s pretty damn tame. And it’s not like he hadn’t said shit like that to Gallagher before. He had. Plenty of times. Worse things, even. So, maybe he didn’t do it so often anymore, so the fuck what? It’s not like Gallagher had been running his mouth recently about his fucking feelings and shit. But, whatever. This wasn’t a god damn apology.

Still, though, it wasn’t like Gallagher needed a babysitter. And Mickey definitely did not qualify as one anyway. He hated kids. Anyway, following Ian to his stupid admissions interview was just another way for them to hang out. And he didn’t hate hanging out with the kid. He enjoyed it, and he would admit it. To himself, at least. Not to the fucking kid. Because then he’d get that damn grin on his face. The grin that made Mickey want to punch him and fuck him sideways all at once.

If the Ian was still so damn adamant about getting into West Point after all this time, then who the fuck was Mickey to tell him he was wasting his time. Like he’d said before, the recruitment building was a block away from his house. But whatever, the point is he’d met up with Ian as he was on his way to his interview. Ian had given him the silent treatment for a few blocks until Mickey shoved him in the shoulder and told him that this interview better not take up the whole day. Ian got the fucking grin on his face anyway. 

The building was nice enough given what part of town it was in. Ian walked down the halls, all straight and proud looking like he fucking belonged there. It just put Mickey in an even worse mood. Who was he supposed to fuck when Gallagher left? It’s not like there was an endless supply of redheaded over talkative little twerps running around. And Mickey didn’t want to take his chances with anyone else. They might talk. 

So he followed along in Ian’s wake until they came to a door on the second floor labeled ‘Sgt. Clearly, Admissions’. Mickey took a seat on one of the chairs in the hall and watched as Ian tried to calm down. He was obviously nervous, and he shouldn’t have been because he knew his shit backward and forward. Hell, Mickey even knew a ton of it because it’s pretty much all Ian wanted to talk about when they were on the subject. Usually they were otherwise occupied.

“Just get your ass in there already, Gallagher.” Mickey said. “It’s gonna be fine.” And was that him being supportive? Well, what the fuck ever, he just wanted to get this over with. Ian spared him a quick grin and opened the door. He disappeared inside and Mickey was left to sit and stare at the wall where numerous pictures of proud looking soldiers hung. He thought it was ironic how they would always show all the serious and proud soldiers, always young and good-looking and in perfect health in these stupid pictures. Why wouldn’t they show the real shit, pictures of soldiers with missing limbs and burned up bodies and psychological damage so intense you could actually see it in their faces. Like Harvey that hung out a few blocks down, no legs and a missing ear, and always talking to himself. That was really what you were signing up for with this shit. And Mickey thought it was fucking ridiculous. And a big fucking lie. And he was more pissed at Ian for wanting that than he would ever admit.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been sitting there when someone came down the hall. The click-clack of heels alerted him, and he looked over to see a tired but attractive woman heading for the room Ian was in. She glanced at him and smiled. He glared. She opened the door and went in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Sergeant, but you told me to deliver these for you when they arrived.” He heard her say. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Another voice. The lady came back out and winked at him as she turned and went the opposite way. Mickey rolled his eyes and thought maybe he’d be interested if she had a dick. Probably not. The only dick he was interested in at the moment was inside that room. The room which the lady had left the door open to. So, of course Mickey scooted closer.

“I just don’t think I’m seeing enough of an improvement here, Mr. Gallagher.” The male voice was saying. “I see here you’ve raised your GPA since last semester, which is very encouraging, but you see it’s not quite enough. Your math skills alone will need further improvement, as will your reading comprehension skills, and the physical aspects of your ROTC training. I see you’re at the top of your group in several areas, however, it just won’t be enough.”

Mickey couldn’t believe it. The fuckwits weren’t going to accept him. Ian was the smartest person he knew, besides Lip, and that kid was a freak. Ian had worked his ass off for this, and these shitheads were just gonna ignore it all.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ian asked in that even voice of his that Mickey knew he had to struggle to put on just so he wouldn’t show how disappointed he was. And if it was Mickey, he’d have thrown a chair through the window by now. Good thing he never intended to try to join the fucking army.

“I’m confident that if you keep on the path you’re on now, keep improving, then next year we’d be proud to have you. As of now, it’s simply too late in the year to accept new admissions. But I thank you for coming in, and wish you luck.” Mickey stood up, went to the door, saw Ian salute the asshole, and was about to give him a piece of his mind. But the look on Ian’s face stopped him. Shit. The kid was fucking devastated. He glanced at Mickey, who could see the wetness in his eyes, and began making his way down the hall. Mickey followed, unsure of what to say. 

“They’re all a bunch of fucking ass wipes.” He said, because he had such a way with words. “I mean, they let any fuckwit who walks into a recruitment center have a gun, but someone who legitimately wants to fight for them, and they push ‘em in the fucking dirt? That’s just fucked up.” Ian looked over at him, his eyes no longer wet, but still sad.

“Thanks, Mick.” Ian said. “But he was right, I do need to get my grades up, and I need to work harder-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Gallagher, the only person who works harder than you is…Well, I actually can’t fucking think of anyone, but still.” Mickey said. They continued down the hall in silence. Usually Mickey was the one telling Ian to stop running his mouth for five seconds, but now all he wanted him to do was tell him how fucking pissed he was. Mickey looked up at him, and the expression on his face just pissed Mickey off even more. The bastards that made him look like that should get their fucking balls cut. And then Mickey realized that he himself had put that look on Ian’s face more than once. And fuck, he felt like shit. So he decided to do something. It was probably not smart, but he’d never claimed to be.

He grabbed Ian’s arm and hauled him over to bathroom they were about to pass. He cut off Ian’s “Hey, Mick-” when he slammed him against the closed door and locked it. Without a word, he sank to his knees and unbuckled the belt from Ian’s camouflage pants that not-so-secretly drove Mickey crazy whenever he saw Firecrotch wearing them. He pulled his pants down as Ian half heartedly protested with “Someone might hear,” and “We could get caught”. Mickey didn’t care because he’d locked the door. And plus, it had been a while since he’d given Ian a blowjob. He was overdue.

It was quick and it was dirty, and Ian made those fucking noises that just drove Mickey insane. But Mickey knew Ian, and he knew he was upset, and he knew he fucking loved getting blown. So he tried to make it last, at least for a little while. But he was getting fucking hard himself, and those damn moans from Ian weren’t helping. And when Ian grabbed his hair and pulled, just hard enough to rip out a few hairs, Mickey almost lost it. Mickey worked his balls, and though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he knew what he was fucking doing when it came to giving head. Especially when it came to Ian. He knew to speed up just a bit, and slow down slightly toward the end, and then right as Ian was one the edge, take him in deep. And then Ian was coming and trying to keep quiet, and Mickey wouldn’t have cared if he’d yelled at the top of his fucking lungs because it was good, so fucking good. He swallowed, wiped his mouth, and put Ian’s pants back in order. He knew before Ian even moved that he’d kneel to reciprocate, but that’s not what this was about. Mickey adjusted himself in his pants as best he could, and unlocked the door. Ian just followed him, looking surprised and satisfied and so damn pretty. And Mickey hated him, but not really. Not even a little bit.

“So, you wanna get a fucking burger or what?” Mickey asked. And that goddamn grin was back, and Mickey didn’t even care. He allowed himself a smile, however small, and lead Gallagher out the door. Because maybe that was a little bit of a fuck-you to the asshole who’d just maybe killed the kids dream, but it sure as fuck wasn’t an apology.


End file.
